Forever Yours
by pensive puddles
Summary: [DHg] A simple kiss, simple memories, and a simple ring that read Forever Yours. The beginning of a fairy tale that came to a crashing end, devestating to the point of almost killing Hermione Granger
1. A Silver Ring

Hey everybody! This is my first actual attempt in a Harry Potter story. I've written to poems and those were major dives. *sighs* Hope you enjoy this. 

Note before you start: This is a Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fic. 

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Forever Yours

~ Pensive Puddles

The fire crackled cheerfully as the two people sat on the rug, watching the fire flicker. A loud snap filled the room as one of the logs cracked in half and caved downwards, sending small sparks of fire up and out of the fireplace. They didn't mind them though. The house was fireproof. 

They silently sipped their hot cocoa, just breathing in the comfortable silence that surrounded them. One gave a loud sigh, breaking the silence. The other didn't even bother looking over. She was used to this. He had always come over, and she always had two cups of hot cocoa ready, occasionally having marshmallows because he found them interesting, and they would sit by the fire and wait for the last log to burn. And then he would leave. But she knew he would be back the following night.

It was always the same routine, over and over again. And it was the highlight of her day. It was his presence that always calmed her nerves. They barely spoke; there was no need for words. They were speaking but at the same time not speaking. It was just their deep friendship that they had. They could sense what the other was feeling and what they wanted to hear and what they needed to hear. And tonight wouldn't be any different, or so she thought.

She had just gulped down her now warm drink when she felt warm lips against her cheek. She almost spilled her mug at this sudden turn of events. Turning her head, she looked at he friend. He gazed at her with his gray eyes, a blank look in them. She cocked her head to the side. This had never happened before. This wasn't part of the routine. She waited for him to say something, do something. 

In the mean time, she looked at him. He was beautiful, a masterpiece. He had a beautiful face, as if someone had chiseled away, leaving a beautiful, masculine, face. It had changed slightly, so different from the face she had first seen on the train on the first day of school. Now it held small scars, not noticeable to the common eye, but she saw them. It was all in his eyes. 

His beautiful eyes had changed as well. From being cold and hard, now empty, only holding emotion when he let them. All the time spent growing up had been trained him to hid his emotions, cover his true feelings and making people believe whatever he wanted them to believe. A couple strands of his blond hair, now having turned a sandy blond, fell next to his eyes, accenting their grayish-blue color. 

He had let his hair grow however it wished. He no longer gelled it back, making it shine in the light. He had let it grown longer and gelled it into clumps of spikes that hung downwards. He would sometimes ruffle his hair to give it a wind blown look. He didn't care how he looked. He knew he looked good no matter what he did to himself.

He had grown slightly taller since he had graduated from Hogwarts and he had gained a more masculine manner to himself, rather than a boy's. He was perfect, the idol of any man, and the perfect guy for any girl. He was handsome, a pure blood, had a fortune, and worked for his money. She adored him.

But she knew she could never have him. It was in instinct in her that told her that he was way out of her league. He was meant to be wedded to a beautiful pure blood girl who would adore him, worship him hand and foot, knowing how lucky she was. 

She always thought of his future. She was scared that he might make a mistake and he would marry a girl who would never realize what she had, a girl who would only consider herself lucky for being able to snag a Malfoy. That's what she was scared of. She feared for her friend when he didn't fear for himself. She seemed to do all the worrying for him. 

And now he had kissed her. She could still feel his lip mark tingling against her skin. She unconsciously reached up and touched where he had touched her. She kept on staring at him. Her hand was gently clasped in his large hand one and he pulled her hand away from her face. He kissed her fingertips and she shuddered. This had _definitely_ never happened before. He looked up at her with those piercing gray eyes that drew her in. 

The man leaned in closer; she could feel his breath against her nose and mouth. And then he kissed her. His lips were so kind and gentle against hers. She had never felt anything like it. It was so different from anything she had ever tasted. But she had tasted it once. 

He had kissed her during school. Of course, both of them were completely drunk, practically holding onto each other to keep each other from falling. She couldn't remember how they had gotten so drunk, or how they had been able to get here jackets to walk back to school, all she knew was that she had caught herself pinned against a tree with him pressing against her, kissing her neck and face hungrily.

She had moaned his name, urging him to kiss her more. And he didn't dare disobey. And then she had whispered something she should have never whispered, "I love you."

He had paused and looked at her. He had just looked at her quizzically, as if those words were foreign to his ears. She wanted him to kiss her again, proclaiming his love to her between kisses. It never happened. He had just been about to say something when a loud bang erupted. She had screamed and he had knocked her to the ground, shielding her with his body. 

They heard cheers and laugher far off and they looked up. Fireworks lit the sky, zigzagging in crazy patterns and flying over everyone and everything. She had always loved fireworks. And since her version had been so blurry, there seemed to be millions of them. She had just stared at the bright lights that glittered in the night skies, never noticing the weight that had lifted off of her. 

She had heard his slurred voice and she turned around. He had his hand out, waiting for her to grab his hand and get off the ground. They had somehow made it inside the school and they were laughing hysterical. And then she whispered, "I think I'm going to be sick!"

"What? Was that kiss really _that_ bad?" he had asked. 

"No! I think I'm going to throw up!" She had covered her mouth. He had looked at her with wide eyes and pulled her to the bathroom, which was two doors down. Rushing in, he let her quickly into one of the stalls. She had pushed him aside and thrown up. Her head was far into the toilet, making sure that her vomit did make it into its destination that she didn't notice how her hair wasn't plastered to the side of her face of mouth, covered in vomit. Leaning back, she swallowed disgustingly at the aftertaste in her mouth. She could have sworn she had tasted that morning's breakfast. 

She had flushed the toilet and had stood up, wiping her mouth. She turned to her hair savior and she smiled. "Thank you." 

And then she had fainted. Her legs had given out from under her and she was aware that she had been caught. She had opened her eyes once and had seen him muttering things with amusement in his eyes. He was wiping her face with a cool, damp paper towel and it felt so good against her skin.

"I feel horrible." She had whispered with a hoarse voice. She had remembered hearing him laugh and she had blanked out again. She had woken up the next day in her bed, in her pajamas and her face scrubbed clean.

"Don't worry. I didn't take your clothes off. I used a spell." He had told her when she asked later. "Although, I wish I had had the privilege of undressing you," he had added.

She had punched him in the chest playfully and stomped off to join Harry and Ron at the Gryfinndor table.

But back to the present. He had just pulled away, looking at her with his deep eyes. It was magical. It seemed to warm her in places were the fire could never warm. And instead of saying "That was great" or "Kiss me again" or nothing at all, she had asked, "Why did you do that?"

"What? You didn't enjoy that?" He asked, a surprised look on his face. It seemed as if he had never been turned down before.

"No! It was great. I liked it a lot…"She said flustered. She looked away but only for a second. And then in a firm voice, "I just want to know what for."

"Can't someone kiss a beautiful person?" he asked smoothly. Lord, was he smooth! She knew she was bright red, beating Ron when he was embarrassed. She could feel the heat in her face. He could probably fry eggs on her face if he wanted.

"I…well, um, it's just that…you…I…" She didn't now what to say. What could she say to that?

"Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?" He asked, throwing her off for a second. He wasn't joking, his eyes looked serious. She just shook her head dumbly. Then he said firmly, "Then they are blind."

And with that he kissed her again. Her mind went off, encouraging to enjoy the kiss that he had so willingly given her. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest that she wondered if he could hear it. She knew _she_ could. His hand touched her neck, pulling her closer to him and she let him. She would let him do anything to her.

To her surprise, she felt his tongue slid gracefully across her bottom lip. It was so soft; she wondered at first how anything could be so soft. Then her mind screamed for her to respond to his invitation. She opened her mouth unsure. She was new at this sort of thing. Of all the guys she had kisses, which were very few, it had always been a peck on the lips or a long kiss. But she had never used her tongue before. She didn't know what to do. Was she supposed to let him explore her mouth and patiently wait for him to finish? Or was she supposed to stick her tongue into his mouth or battle with his tongue? Such confusing questions for a certain kiss and she was completely lost.

Luckily, he had taken control and was exploring inside her mouth. She felt his tongue touch hers and she licked at it. It was a sudden impulse and she didn't know why she did it. But she didn't do it again. She just stayed there; kissing him and letting him do whatever he wanted to do. This was his territory, not hers.

He had noticed how she wasn't responding and drew away. He leaned back and looked at her. She didn't look at him. She felt slightly ashamed. Would he get up and leave and tell everyone how she was a horrible kisser? Would he laugh at her? Instead, he asked, "You haven't kissed a guy before, have you, Hermione?"

"I have too kissed a guy before!" she said a little too loudly. She noticed how his eyebrows raised at her sudden outburst and she mumbled, "But I've never french kissed a guy before."

"Well, there's always a first. And I'm honored to be yours." He smiled. It wasn't a smirk, but a warm smile. He was serious. He cocked his head at her and asked, "Let's give it another go, shall we?"

She nodded. He sat closer to her. "Now just relax and go with whatever you feel like doing…"

He had leaned in and kissed her again. He had started out slowly, letting her get the feel of it and he pulled away once or twice to instruct her on what to do, but she seemed to get the hang of it quiet quickly. Soon he was the one sitting back and letting her take control, enjoying the sensation of her tongue against his, inside his mouth.

She finally pulled away and she looked at him, asking how she did. He caressed her jaw with his thumb and said, "I would give that an Outstanding."

She giggled. Settling down next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness that they shared. Suddenly she asked, "Why did you kiss me? You know, the first one?"

"Because you're cheeks were too tempting not to be touched." He teased. She looked up at him, a smile on her face and she asked again, "Why?"

"Let's just say it was my way of thanking you. All these little nighttime visits with you and sharing hot cocoa with you. Besides, not many people put marshmallows in their hot cocoa." He joked.

"Come on, Draco!" she said. 

"I'm serious!" He laughed. He settled back, resting against the couch bottom. He heard her sigh and looked at her. She gazed into the fire. Her eyes were getting so heavy.

"Come on. You can rest on me. Think of me as your expensive pillow." He remarked. She scooted next to him and rested her head against his chest. His blue silk shirt was soft against her face and she snuggled into it. She breathed in the scent of laundry detergent and expensive cologne. He always smelled so clean and fresh. The smell seemed to make her senses come alive. But this time, it was making her drowsy. She closed her eyes sleepily and let the heat of the fire and his body bathe her. She listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing that calmed her like the waves of the sea. 

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but she never wanted it to end. Although her body would say otherwise. She felt really sore. She moved slightly, hoping she get a little more comfortable. No such luck. She had to sit up, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed the bottom of her spine.

"Uncomfortable?" she heard him ask. She turned to face him. His head was cocked to the side. His eyes never leaving her. She nodded.

"Me too." Then he added quickly, "But it's from the floor. You were quite nice to have."

She shook her head as she laughed as she saw the familiar smirk form on his face. Sometimes, some things will never change. She kept looking at him. For some reason, she couldn't take her eyes off of him, just like he seemed to be doing as well. 

"Do you…?" she started, glancing at the couch.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening on his face. "I know that we kissed and all, but do you think your ready for _that_?"

"You knew what I meant, Draco!" she sighed, although she couldn't help but smile at how her friend's mind worked.

"Alright. Do you think it's big enough?"

"Yes. I've done it before with Harry and Ron." She noticed something flickered in his eyes but the next time she looked at it, it was gone. She shrugged it aside. Must have just been a trick of the light.

Getting off the floor, Draco settled down on the couch, stretching out and placing his hands behind his head, purposefully making sure he covered the couch. "Now _this_ is what I call comfortable!" he sighed happily.

"Oh move over, you great lump!" Hermione said while shoving him to the side. Draco flipped over to his side and rested there, letting her get comfortable. Hermione seriously wished that her face would stop feeling so hot, but she couldn't help it. She was lying quite close to Draco and was quite comfortable as well. Resting her head on his arm that was laying across her pillow, she sighed. Sometimes, she wished things would never end.

Draco pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and immediately her eyes widened and she grew stiff. She had of course been held like this, but somehow it was different from the other times. She felt his head over her neck, his breath tickling her ear, "What? Don't like that?"

She shook her head. Then he asked, "You don't mind, do you? I was just trying to make this couch a little more comfortable…"

"No. It's fine. Just sort of caught me off guard there…"she trailed off. She knew he was smirking at her. She knew him so well now a days. She grinned as well. They laid there for who knows how long, but it was fine with them. They were too absorbed into each other's comfortable presence that they didn't care that dawn was approaching and he would soon leave. Hermione wished time would be put on hold and that they would stay like this forever. She couldn't help but think of his arm around her waist. It was so strong, firmly around her waist as if claiming her. And being the kind of girl who didn't like to be thought of as a possession, she found it odd that she was wishing it was like this every night except that he and she were more than just friends and it would be a lovers arm around her waist.

She couldn't stop the sighing from escaping her lips. She knew that Draco noticed it. She felt him over her and she looked up at him. His blond hair was falling over his face and his blue eyes showed concern in them. "What?"

"Nothing." She said quickly.

"Liar." His lips tugged up into a quick grin and then he frowned at her, "Tell me."

"No."

"Come on, 'Mione." He said, calling her pet name. He knew that she didn't like it when he called her by her nickname Harry and Ron had given her.

"No." she said firmly and looked back at the fire. She felt her head being turned towards him and she looked at him. He whispered, "Tell me, please."

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Just sort of regretting tomorrow."

"Actually, it is tomorrow." He said, glancing at his watch. "Why do you regret it?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know. It's just this feeling I get inside my heart and stomach."

"Isn't it heart and soul?"

"Well, this time it's my stomach. Just drop it OK?" she snapped and turned away from him.

"OK. Don't have to get so pissed about it…" He snapped back and she felt him move as if to get off the couch. She bit her lip; she didn't want him to leave. She had been a little edgy when it came to these little 6th senses she had. She sometime would stay up late at night, trying to figure out what they meant. They usually came when he was around, like as if something horrible would happen to him. But she usually shook them off. Not tonight, though.

She reached up and grabbed the sleeve of his silk shirt. He glared at her coldly. It was strange how just moments ago those eyes were filled with so much concern and serenity. "I'm sorry, Draco. I shouldn't have said that that way," she apologized. "Don't leave, please?"

"It's OK. It was my fault too." He said as he laid back down. She settled back against his chest, feeling her head rise as he breathed. She reached down and touched his hand. There was something about people's hands that fascinated her. It was like their past was written in them. 

She brought his hand up to her face and looked at it, letting her finger trace over his smooth skin. Although his hands looked delicate and weak, they were quite strong and firm. She touched each knuckle, each small scar, each line on his palms, trying to see his past. Such hardship and pain seemed to leap out at her. She turned the palm back and looked at his fingers. Each nail was manicured into perfection. They didn't look feminine, but they did look nice and neat, unlike Harry's and Ron's whose usually were ripped up at odd angels. She noticed a ring on his ring finger. But he wasn't married, wasn't it supposed to be on the left hand, or was it different in the Wizard world?

"What's this?" she asked, touching the silver ring around his finger. She felt his chin against her neck as he looked at his hand as well. He was silent for a couple moments and she was about to telling him to forget it, but he spoke.

"It's been in the family for generations. Usually, the father gives the ring to her son, telling him to give it to the one he loves the most, with all his heart. But since most of the marriages in my family are arranged marriages, they usually didn't give the ring to their spouse because they didn't truly love them. The ring is then passed on to the first born, generally the boy, and it keeps going. My father gave it to me, told me the story behind it and everything." He explained.

"Did you find a girl?" she asked casually, her heart racing inside. She concentrated on the silver band, a design on it and she tried to figure out what it was. But her eyes were un-focusing as she waited for his answer.

"Well, as you can see, the ring is still on my finger, "he answered, nuzzling her neck playfully. His was such a flirt. She giggled as his breath tickled her neck. She kept touching his hand, rubbing her fingers against the ring. His hand moved and engulfed hers in his. She could feel the strength in his grip. He pulled it over her shoulder. She could feel him examining each finger.

"So soft," he commented to himself as he touched each and every one of them. She turned around, facing him, looking at his hard chest, strong neck and beautiful face. His face was illuminated in the fires light, a soft glow settling around his face. She took her soft fingers and touched his cheek. He didn't react, but kept looking at her, wonder and curiosity filling his eyes. She had expected tough skin, like his hands, but was surprised to find smooth skin. She traced his jawbone with curiosity and without really thinking she touched his lips with her fingers. They were softer than anything she had ever felt. She wondered what they felt like against her own?

As if he had read her mind, he pulled her closer, closing the small gasp between them and letting her feel his lips. It was simple and sweet. They pulled away a little and he gave her two small, short kisses before pulling away to look at her, a satisfied smile on his face. She shivered. 

"Cold?" He didn't wait for a reply as he drew her even closer, encircling her with his arms and pressing her against his chest. Hermione just nodded. She really wasn't cold, but the closer she was to Draco, she felt like she could breath clearly. She felt him petting her hair and she let him, imagining his hands against her hair, and she mouthed her love for him over and over again, never uttering a sound. 

Her eyes grew heavy and she closed them, her breath deepening. Before she fell asleep completely, she felt him kiss her ear lightly and hear him whisper, "I won't let them hurt you, so long as I live and after."

Usually, her mind would wake up instantly, commanding her to demand what he was talking about, but she was so tired and so comfortable and something was telling her to keep quiet, just let the silence continue. She felt as if she wasn't supposed to hear that anyway. 

She tightened her hold on him and she felt him do the same. Then she fell into darkness. 

She saw two children playing in the grass, chasing each other and laughing. A sound had caught the kids attention and they stood up to their feet, waving at something and then returning to playing in the mud. The small boy with brown hair picked up a handful of mud, a tricky, evil grimace forming on his face as he threw it at the un-expecting girl. The girl gave a shriek as the brown goo dripped down her gorgeous blond locks. Tears formed in her eyes as she screamed, "That wasn't funny!"

"Yes it was." Replied the boy, a gleeful look on his face at seeing his sister crying. But it soon was quickly erased as the girl took off in her short, green dress, and ran to her parents. "Whatever she says, it's a lie!" he screamed as he chased after her.

"Calm down you two!" said a woman. The small girl cowered around the woman's, who must have been her mother, legs while the boy did the same but around her father. The two children where pointing and yelling accusations at each other and it seemed that the father wasn't helping much.

The woman gave a frustrated growl and glared at the man, "They're your children too! Do something!" 

The man raised one of his dark blond eyebrows, smirked at his wife and said in a firm voice, "Shut up, both of you."

Instantly the two children were silent, glaring at each other. "Now," the father ordered, " I don't care who did what, or who said what, but apologize to each other. Right. Now."

"Sorry," apologized the girl.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have thrown the mud." Replied the boy. "Let's go play some more!"

"OK! But no more mud throwing." 

"Deal." The two kids took off running, laughing as if nothing had taken place a couple minuets before.

The mother sighed, " He's you minus the brown hair, hon."

"Well, let's just hope he doesn't act like a prat when he gets into school," mumbled the man.

"That's asking a lot." She smiled as he glared at her. But he soon cracked and grinned back, circling her small waist with his strong arms. He nuzzled her neck, whispering, "I'm so glad I have someone like you." 

"Dido, love." She kissed him. 

The vision of the two happy couple standing in the meadow faded away into darkness. Hermione had watched them in awe, recognizing the two people, but could not come up with names for those faces. She started to feel alone when she saw someone ahead of her, his back facing her. Running up behind him, she grabbed his shoulder. A handsome man turned to her, his blue eyes looking at her seriously, a sad expression on his face. She felt a stab of sadness at his face. She brushed his blond hair away from his face, trying to comfort him.

"That could have been us," said Draco, pulling her close, his head lowering to hers until their faces were mere inches apart.

"Why can't it be?" she whispered. She held on to him tightly, wanting to hold on to him, prevent him from going anywhere.

"Because this world won't allow it." He silenced her with a kiss. She kept her eyes closed, still taking the after affects of it. She heard him whisper in her ear, "I love you, Hermione. Never forget that."

"I won't." She heard herself whisper back automatically, adding, "I love you, Draco."

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone, leaving her standing in the green meadows, tears falling from her beautiful, sad eyes. 

~*~

Hermione woke up slowly. She sighed and pulled the blanket around her tightly. Where had that come from? Noticing something was wrong, she opened her eyes fully and touched the place where Draco should have been laying. She found an empty spot, the cushions cold from having lost his body heat. She sat up. She looked slowly around the room. "Was it a dream?" she asked herself.

Her eyes fell upon the two mugs they had used hundreds of times before to drink their hot chocolate and answered her own question. So he had left. But this time he had stayed past dawn. She sighed with both tiredness and regret. She missed his presence. Every time he was close, she felt alive, like she could breath freely. Now she was back where she felt suffocated. She could still breathe, she knew, but something was making it difficult to do so.

Brushing a strand of messy hair behind her ear, something silver on her hand caught the light and she held her hand away from her face to look at it. On her finger was a silver band. She gasped. She looked at it in awe, and suddenly a part of their conversation from the previous night flooded back to her.

__

"Usually, the father gives the ring to her son, telling him to give it to the one he loves the most, with all his heart." 

"Did you find a girl?" 

"Well, as you can see, the ring is still on my finger. " 

And now it was off his finger and it was on hers. She blinked. He loved her, why else did he put it on her finger? She looked at it. It was so simple of a design, so unlike the normal Malfoy design. Her eyes caught something on the ring and she walked to the window where dawn's light poured into the room. She squinted as she tried to read what seemed to be engraved into the ring. 

"My heart is forever yours." She read in a whisper. Tears stung her eyes and a light feeling flooded her body. Her stomach was making odd, happy leaps in her stomach and she cried with joy. Never had she know such happiness and joy.

"I love you, Draco. I love you so much." She proclaimed as she looked out the window and at the path that led from her house to the gate, the path where he had walked countless of times to get to and from her house. And somehow, she regretfully knew that this had been their last time together.

~*~

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A/N: OK! So you read it! I know it's a bit long, but I didn't feel like making it into two chapters. Congrates to those who read it all through! *waves hands around and cheers* 

Anyway, I would really, really, REALLY love for you to review. Please!! Praise me, Flame me, just review and let me know that you actually read it. Be honest now. Please review!! I really need some reviews to boost myself up…

Fine, if you don't want to review, I'll just have to make you! *grins evilly*_ Accio Reviews!_ *nothing happens* 

*sighs* Oh well, good try though…

Five reviews at most, that's all I'm asking and then I'll post my other chapter up. _Now_ will you review? *crosses fingers* please, oh, please, oh, please! _


	2. A Hero's Death

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Gee, that's a surprise…

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Forever Yours

By Pensive Puddles

Draco slowly opened his eyes. Sighing, he looked down at the lady lying next to him. Her amber hair was messy, locks of it covering her face. So angelic of an expression, he found himself reaching up to caress that face. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He smiled as he recalled the events that had taken place in the past few hours. He smirked. She really was a good kisser. He knew that from past experienced anyway.

..*..

It was close to graduation and N.E.W.T.s were finished. He didn't know whom, but someone had thrown a party, and it was only for the 7th years and dates. He had changed that past school year. His home life changed without his father and his mother taking on more responsibility had helped change his actions and himself. But the people who had changed it the most were Hermione and Harry. Ron stepped in at random times.

So Draco had gone to it, partly to meet his friends, and partly for the free Butterbeer. As he glanced at the doorway, Harry, Ron and his angel stepped into the room. He grinned as he saw his friends smiling at him in greeting. They quickly made their way to each other, sat down again and talked of how they thought they did on their N.E.W.T.s, what the would do this summer, what jobs they wanted to get now that they were out of school, and just had a good time. 

Laughing and joking, they paused as music filled they room. Immediately, both Harry and Ron were swept off to the dance floor as two Ravenclaw girls asked for a dance. Hermione and Draco continued to talk, laughing at Harry because of the girls who kept asking to cut in. Everyone wanted to dance with the boy-who-lived, especially since this was his last year at Hogwarts. 

It seemed so impossible how they were graduating soon and they would never step back on the grounds of Hogwarts as students. It was a sad thought, actually. Despite all the bad years and times, Draco knew he would miss Hogwarts. It had been a major part of his life, a sanctuary from his father.

Hermione sighed, causing him to glance over at her. He automatically asked, "What?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Liar," he smirked. She giggled. He knew her so well. "Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Hermione, you know that I know that something's bothering you."

She didn't reply. She gazed at the people twirling on the dance floor and said, "It's just that I haven't been asked to dance since Krum at the Yule ball, you know, in fourth year?"

She must have noticed him staring at her for she quickly looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. Not that Draco had any right to stare. Was she telling him she hadn't danced with anyone since 4th year? Who wouldn't want to dance with her? She was gorgeous! This remark caught Draco by surprise and his jaw almost dropped. Did pureblood Draco Malfoy, muggle-born hater, just admit that he thought Mudblood Hermione Granger, was gorgeous? Yes, he did. He shook his head and chuckled mentally. He really had changed.

Standing to his feet, he held out his hand to her. She looked at it and then at him. Blushing, she said in a rush, "I didn't mean for it to sound as if I wanted to be asked. I was just thinking and I didn't mean for it to come out that way. What I mean is that I don't want you to feel obligated to do this."

"Obligated?" he repeated one eyebrow raised. He titled his head to the side and continued, "I'm not asking you because I pity you, Hermione. I'm asking you because I want to. I want every guy out there to be envious of me because I'm dancing with the prettiest girl in this room, in this school, in this world."

He gently took her hand, and brought the dainty thing to his lips where he lightly kissed it. She giggled and stood up, swatting at his arm at that same time. "Oh you little flirt!"

He pulled her out to the dance floor, twirling her around and bringing her close. He could still remember how she relaxed into his arms and how it seemed so perfect, so right. He prayed that Merlin would not let anyone disrupt this dance. Things were looking so good.

"Excuse me?" said a voice. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. Good things never seem to last long, especially for him. 

"Yes?" Draco growled obviously annoyed.

"May I cut in?" the red head asked. Draco looked at Hermione and slightly nodded. Handing her over reluctantly, he walked away to let Hermione and Ron dance. Spotting Harry siting at a table, he sat by his friend. 

Harry heard Draco's sigh and immediately passed him a Butterbeer. Taking it, Draco said, "Thanks mate."

Harry had grown to be Draco's closest friend at Hogwarts. Draco had found out that Harry was an excellent friend and that he could trust him with his life. He had wished he hadn't been such a snob when he was younger. Maybe then he had Harry could have been friends all through school, share the same friendship that Harry shared with Ron and Hermione. They only called each other mate's when Ron wasn't in hearing range. Although Ron had admitted that Draco had changed, Ron's 'Wealsey's Pride' would not let him put past experiences behind him. 

Draco heard Harry reply, "Your welcome," but he was too busy gazing at Hermione to respond or make conversation. She was laughing, happiness shinning from her face as she danced and talked with Ron. He couldn't help but wonder, was she like that when he danced with her?

Harry, who must have been wondering what he was staring at so intensely, followed his gaze. As if reading his thoughts, Harry said, "She was happier with you, mate."

"Was she really?" Draco asked curiously. He relaxed with a grin as Harry nodded. A happy feeling filled him and he felt as if he was floating. 

"You should dance with her again," Harry continued.

"Speaking of dancing, Mr. Prince Charming himself, why aren't you being tackled by the ladies?" 

"A spell. That's right, a spell," Harry added as he noticed Draco's curious look. Pointing his Butterbeer bottle, he ordered, "Look at your 2 o'clock."

Doing as he was told, Draco's eyes widened as he saw Harry dancing with Jamie Jefferson, a Hufflepuff girl. They seemed to be dancing and having a small conversation at the same time. But how was that possible? Wasn't Harry sitting right next to him?

"I can be two places at once, but only one of me can be seen. " Harry explained. 

"So how come I can see you?" 

"I can only let one person see my other half, and that's if I want them to. Watch," he ordered. Draco stared at Harry and then he was gone. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, but there was no trace of Harry except an empty chair. Suddenly, Harry appeared out of thin air, causing Draco to spill Butterbeer down his front.

"Holy…! Where'd you go?" Draco asked as he tried to wipe the drink off of his clothes.

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized. Flicking his wand and muttering a couple words, Draco was clean and dry again. "There was no way I could warn you."

"That is really awesome Harry," Draco told him. His eyebrows then bunched up with curiosity," Then, does it make it look as if I'm off my rocker when I'm talking to you? Because you know, only I can see you."

"That's the other part of the spell. It splits you up as well. But when you want to leave, you are put back together again." 

"Did you find this out of a Dark Arts book?"

Harry shook his head and told him, "I made it myself."

Draco sat back laughing and shaking his head in disbelief, "You truly are amazing Harry. You'll make an excellent Auror. There's no denying that!" 

He laughed against as Harry blushed. They both drank from their bottles. Draco's mind drifted back to the spell Harry had made and he suddenly asked, "What if one of you is hurt, killed for example. What happens to the other one?"

"Well, I haven't exactly gone that far in testing. But I guess since half of me is in one of them, then if one is killed, then I guess there will only be one half of me for the rest of my life," Harry replied. 

"Do you know what you are doing with your other self?" 

"Yes."

"Then how are you able to carry a conversation without mixing it up with your other's conversation?"

"I don't know. It's weird. You see, my other half feels as if we already had this discussion, and I already feel as if I've talked to Jamie and danced with her. Do you understand?" 

"Not really, but forget that I asked you that question."

"Go ask Hermione for a dance," Harry suddenly encouraged suddenly.

"What if she doesn't want to?"

"Oh, she does. Believe me," Harry gave a mysterious smile, got up and stretched. "Besides, Jamie stopped dancing with me so I can put myself together again. The only problem with this spell is that it drains you out."

"Goodbye mate."

"Same here." Draco watched as Harry slipped through the people unnoticed and stepped into himself. Harry shook his head as if clearing it, and then looked up and waved at Draco to go ask Hermione for a dance. He nodded.

Weaving himself through the crowds, he walked up behind Hermione and touched her waist. She gasped and turned around, looking up at him with surprised amusement. "Oh, Draco. You startled me!"

"May I have another dance?" He asked. She gave him a warm smile, let him clasp her hand in his and walk her to the dance floor for a second time.

Right when they put their arms around each other, the music changed to a sad, slow song. Draco pulled Hermione closer; she didn't protest. He felt her rest her head against his chest and he rested his head against hers. It was so perfect; nothing was going to interrupt it this time. He let his grip loosen slightly, and then he casually let his hands fall until they were half way on her bottom. He smirked, as she froze and then instantly relaxed again. 

It felt so wonderful, being in each other's arms that they didn't want to part as the slow song ended and a fast one started up. Hermione motioned him to follow her and he did so. She had led them to the punch bowl. He could still remember what they had said to each other. Every single word still rang clear into his head even now. During their conversation, someone had stepped in, offering shots of firewhisky.

The small drinks turned into competitions and it ended when one of the boys went to go look 

for some more bottles of alcohol. They had decided to go for a little stroll and had left, only to return in search for their jackets from the cool breeze outside. Laughing hysterically, they walked back to the school's entrance, holding onto each other for support. 

He didn't know why, but they had stopped laughing and had just looked at each other. Draco had lowered his head, his eyes slowly closing as he came closer. He paused before her lips, waiting to see if she'd pull away. As she did nothing, he kissed her. She was so different from all the girls he had kissed. She seemed so pure and innocent, and he felt both guilty and privileged. Hermione was everything he'd though she'd be: sweet. 

The power that seemed to demand took over, causing him to push slightly harder and he waited for her to retreat. And to his delightful surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing hard in response. Passion broke forth there and they feverishly kissed each other, Draco's strength pushing her back until her she stopped by a tree. Pinned against the tree and no were else to go, he hungrily kissed her neck and face, rubbing his hands up and down her sides, down her hips and over her butt. 

She moaned his name and he knew right then and there that he would do anything to hear her moan his name again. He pulled her hair to the side, revealing her neck and he lightly nibbled, receiving another moan. She was driving him crazy! With one hand tangled in his blond hair and the other hand digging into his shoulder, she pulled him close and whispered in his ear, "I love you."

He pulled away, looking at her in disbelief. Was it the achohol that made her say this or did she really feel this way? The look in her eyes wasn't lust; it seemed to be pure love. She loved him. It seemed too good to be true. And he knew that he loved her too. All the weird feelings that he had felt whenever she was close, whenever he looked into her eyes, was love. Love. It was so simple. That was the answer to what had caused him to feel jealous whenever she was close to another guy, why he felt warmth flooding through him whenever she touched him, why it explained a lot of things. At first, he had thought he was just horny, and that he had had his choice of everyone at the school except Granger, which was why he was severely attracted to her. But he couldn't say that now because he loved her.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to proclaim his love to her, a loud shrieking sound filled the air. His mind told him to protect her and so he knocked her to the ground, covering her small petite figure with his body. Fear for her life filled him, and he forgot the close contact he was with her. All that mattered to him was her safety. As he heard laughter and applause far off, he looked up to see the fireworks lighting up the black sky. He jumped off the ground, looking to see if anyone saw them. 

When he turned around to say something to her, he saw nothing there. She was still lying on the ground. Helping her up, he led her to school. They were laughing again when she suddenly stopped, a hand touching her chest. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said in a tight voice.

"What, was this kiss really that bad?" he teased. He watched her. Something wasn't right.

"No. I think I'm going to through up!" she quickly said in a gasp, a hand covering her mouth. His eyes widened, and half pulling her, half carrying her, he got her into one of the bathroom stalls and let her have her peace with the toilet bowl. 

When she was done, she stood up and grinned, "Thank you."

Her eyes closed and she fell, only to land in his arms. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing but lifted her up and sat her on the sink. Taking a paper towel, he wiped the vomit off her face. 

She groaned, "I feel horrible."

"Well you would if you had as many shots of firewhisky as you did!" he chuckled. Her eyes had already closed again and he sighed. She was pretty, even when her face was pale and she looked worn out. 

"You know, I could grow old with you. Even when you were old and wrinkly, and all your physical beauty was lost even though you'd still be beautiful in my eyes, I would still love you," he whispered. "I wish I could grow old with you. There's no one else I'd prefer."

Kissing her eyelids, he picked her up with his arms and carried her to her bed, glad that they were both Head's together. Setting her on her bed, he quickly performed a spell to change her clothes. Although no one would have known if he had looked, he refrained from doing so. Somehow, he felt as if he was taking advantage of her if he had watched her undress, no matter how much he wanted to see her without any clothes on. What could he say? He was like any 18-year-old teenage male.

"I love you," he whispered as he kissed her forehead. With that, he left, closing the door behind him. 

He had stayed up a couple more hours after he had left her. The memory of her kiss had preoccupied his mind. He tormented himself later, wondering what could have happened if the fireworks had not gone off; a thought he had constantly turned to even after graduation. 

..*..

He sighed. He wished the past could become the present, but he knew that was impossible, as was the wish he had made in the bathroom. It was plain and simple: life sucked. He had tried to forget her. Merlin knows he did. But every time he went on a date, it always was a girl who had brown hair and brown eyes, always an image of Hermione with small mistakes. How he wished he could have gotten over her, but he heart refused to do so. 

Getting off the couch, he stood up and straightened his clothes. He had never spent the night with her before. Next time, he vowed, he'd be there when she awoke. Something in the back of his mind told him there wouldn't be a next time. The meaning of the thought perplexed him, but he shrugged it off. He turned his eyes back to Hermione. She shivered slightly and he immediately "_accio_" a blanket. Tucking her in comfortably and snugly, he knelt down and took one of her soft, delicate hands. Taking the ring off of his finger, he placed the silver band on her ring finger. Kissing her fingers, he placed her hand back under the blanket. She sighed.

A small warm smile covered his face and he quickly kissed the side of her lips and whispered, "I love you, Hermione. Never forget that."

Imagine his shock when she replied, "I love you, Draco."

Draco was flabbergasted for a couple seconds. Was she awake? He waved his hand in front of her face: no reaction. He whispered her name, still no reaction. Did she wake up and then fall back to sleep? Or had she just talked in her sleep? Either way, she said she loved him. He smirked and silently made his way out of her door. 

Stepping out into the dawn's weather, he made sure her house was locked before he walked down the small path he had walked on so many times before. He took one last look at her small little house and the sudden image of children playing in the yard and an older couple watching them popped into his head. 

"If only this world would allow us…"he whispered. He pulled his rob closer to his body as a breeze blew by and started walking down the sidewalk. As he walked, he thought of her, as he usually did. He couldn't wait to see her again, and the thought that told him he wouldn't nagged at him again. He pushed it away again. Why did it keep coming back? With every step that took him farther from the house of his love, the more urgent the feeling became. He should go back, forget work. Call in sick, and just stay by her side, don't ever let her go. 

He ignored it. He had had these feelings before. In the past few nighttime visits, the feeling would come over him, but less urgent. But today, it was stronger than usually. And like all the other times, he pushed it aside. 

His thoughts traveled to his sleeping love. He wished she could have been his, but she was too good for him. He would never want to bring her down. Near the breaking point of the war, the Light and Dark side were made known. It wasn't hard for Draco to pick which side he wanted to be on. He loved Hermione, and there was no way he would go against her. That was the worst thing he could do, have to kill her or Harry or Ron. Dumbledore had requested a spy because Snape couldn't be everywhere. So he had volunteered and it was a perfect plan.

Draco's father had been given the dementor's kiss the second time he was chucked into Azkaban and had had proof of his activities with the Dark Lord. So it would only be natural for Draco to join the Dark side and avenge his father. He was a Malfoy; most of the Malfoy's had become Death Eaters during Voldermorte's time. Draco was the perfect material for a spy.

He didn't just do it for the Light side; he did it for Hermione too. He could not stand by and watch his Hermione die without trying to help prevent it. He could still remember how upset she had been when it was announced he would be their spy. "Why, Draco?" she had demanded, angry tears shinning in her eyes. "Why does it have to be you?"

"I'm the best, you know that," he had told her.

"It's too dangerous," she had said automatically.

"Everything's dangerous now. And I'd rather it be more dangerous for me then be dangerous for everyone else."

"But what if you get caught?" He knew she was worried. He could always tell by the way that she started to crack her fingers and mess with the bottom of her shirt.

"Then I'll get caught. It's the way war goes, Hermione. You should know that."

"I…I don't want you to die," she whispered, tears already trailing down her cheeks. He had stepped closer to her, wiping the hot salt drops away with his thumb.

"I don't want you or anyone else I care about die either," he replied in a low voice. He pulled her in a hug and she let her tears flow freely down. He was her comforter and she knew she was safe. That day she had reluctantly let him be lead away by Professor Snape to were the Death Eaters were gathering for the acceptance of a new member.

Draco grimaced at the memory of getting the Dark Mark. It had hurt. It was like a hot knife being twisted around in his arm. He could still remember how sensitive his arm had been after he had gotten it. He could still remember how it would sting like peroxide poured on an open cut whenever the Dark Lord called them. He could still remember how Hermione's eyes would dim whenever she saw a small piece of it show from under his sleeves. 

People still talked, even after the war. He was still a Malfoy and although the money and wealth was still there, as was the title, the threat and respect wasn't. Besides the chosen people in the Order, people didn't know he was a warrior of the Light side. As the saying goes, like father, like son, so did everyone's view on Draco went. He was Lucius' son. Draco had to be like his father, it was impossible that he couldn't be like him.

So how could he bring Hermione down? The gossip of a Mudblood and a Pureblood marrying, not that it hadn't happened before, but it was a Malfoy who was marrying a muggle-born. It would be another end to one of the lines of a pure-blood family. She would have become a Malfoy, hated by pure-bloods because she would have dirtied the line. 

The pressure that would have been put on her…He wasn't stupid. He had heard the hopes of Hermione Granger marrying either one of her best friends, Ron Weasley or Harry Potter, most going for the latter. What couldn't be a happier story? Best friends marrying each other, having gone through so many adventures together. What kind of story would theirs be? Two people in different houses, who absolutely despised each other, calling each other names and wishing the other was dead, all the sudden marrying?

Very unlikely, Draco thought while shaking his head. Stupid society, stupid world, stupid different blood! He hated it all! He let out a low growl of frustration.

The hairs on his back raised. Someone was following. He kept on walking at a steady pace, no sign showing he knew of the others presence. The training he had took for the War took over. He listened carefully, imagining the stalker. By the amount of footsteps being taken at the same time, he had to say there was three, no, four men. They were spreading out, two in the back and one on either side. With a quick, graceful movement, Draco grabbed his wand that had been kept in the sleeve of his robe and fired spells at the enemy. 

One was knocked down and never got back up by Draco's surprise attack. Spells flew back and fourth but being outnumbered, Draco soon found himself surrounded, wands pointing all around at him. There was no way Draco would surrender without a good fight.

"Stay still, Draco," ordered a voice under a black hood," and we won't hurt you…yet."

Chuckles rippled through the men. Draco scowled. He felt his wand behind pulled out of his hand and he quickly turned his head but stopped as the tip of a wand pressed sharply under his chin.

"Give up, or your Mudblood bitch dies," he said. Instantly Draco relaxed. There was no way he would get Hermione mixed up in this.

The man gave a disgusted snort, "I knew that would get your attention. Now touch the port key."

Draco touched the can reluctantly. He never let his gaze falter from the man's hidden face. He wasn't going to break. The sudden feeling of being jerked by a long hook behind his naval told Draco that the port key was activating and he landed hard on the ground. Getting up without using his hands since they were now tied, he glanced around to take in his surroundings before returning his stare to the leader. They were in a cemetery. Instantly, the story that Harry had spoken of Voldermorte being brought back to life in a cemetert filled his mind. But there was no way. Voldermorte was dead, right? Draco felt a stab of fear pierce though him. He made sure no one noticed. It was one thing he had learned though his childhood and war: never let anyone know what you are feeling, be emotionless. However, he did screw that one up with Hermione. If it was one thing he didn't like about that girl, it was how she sometimes made him loose his self-control. Whenever her life was involved, it messed him up.

"I have to say, Draco, you haven't lost your touch," remarked the man," You really were the perfect spy."

He took off his hood and Draco looked at Greg Whitman. He had been a year ahead of Draco during school and was in his house. 

"What do you want?" Draco asked. He knew what was going to happen. It was a gut feeling and despite how he used to fear death when he was younger, he was ready for it this time.

"It should be obvious," Greg replied, looking at his finger nails as if inspecting for dirt. He looked so ignorant and snobbish. Draco wished he could wring off his neck.

"What I can't understand, is how you became a spy against the Dark Lord. He had great interest in you and you were the most powerful out of all the Death Eaters. You could have been his right hand man."

"Yeah, like that was my dream goal," Draco rolled his eyes and muttered.

Greg walked over to him, his hand squeezing the spy's neck. He growled, "Every Death Eater wanted to be you, Draco. We wanted to have the power the Dark Lord would offer to us. But you…you didn't even care. As I remember, you were very keen on the idea of power."

"But you see Greg, that was during school and I changed," Draco spoke as if speaking to a three year old.

"Yes," Greg's eyes narrowed in slightly at being insulted. "You did change. You started hanging around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger."

Greg let go of Draco's throat and Draco breathed in slowly, silently thanking Merlin for air. Greg turned around, staring at the other man curiously. "You used to hate everything about the Dark Lord's enemy, and yet you became friends with him," he said," How could you degrade yourself?"

"I found out who was right. The Dark Lord was just a Mudblood who had been exaggerated and knew some wand tricks. He was nothing. He had no power. Only those who want justice and freedom for everyone, the ones who want everyone to have a chance at happiness had power. Those who keep power all to themselves for their own selfish purposes have no power nor strength," said Draco. His gaze never faltered. "And as for degrading myself, I did no such thing. Death Eaters are lower than the low. They're like animals and they are stupid. They think they'll get power. But it's never true. Voldermorte never shares his power. He always was a selfish basted."

"_Crucio_!" Greg screamed. Draco fell to the ground, his body quivering. The pain suddenly stopped and Draco got back up to his knees, his breaths deep and rapid. "How dare you disrespect the Dark Lord's name! How dare you!"

Greg lowered his arm, gathering his composure again. Draco smirked. He found it humorous how the Death Eaters were so serious about their Master. 

"The Dark Lord knew you were a spy. He was testing you, wondering if you would turn towards power like your father. He knew you were a spy all along." Greg told him. Draco wondered if Greg was trying to defend his Lord, because he knew the things Draco had said earlier were true.

"Well that just makes him both wrong and stupid," Draco smirked. He fell to the ground again, pain shaking his body but he would not scream. Never would he give the enemy that satisfaction. Just when he thought he would pass out from the pain, it suddenly ceased and the after affects hurt almost as bad as the spell itself. He got back up to his knees and coughed. Blood coming up and out of his mouth. He sat back on his heels and glared at Greg, his eyes still hard and cold. He seriously had to learn how to control his tongue. 

"I hate to do this. You were powerful, Draco. You could have been the next Dark Lord. That's why it is sad that you must be disposed of…" Greg looked down at Draco with mock pity. "But traitor's never live long."

Greg lifted the wand and muttered a spell. Draco's arms and legs grew heavy to the point where he couldn't hold them up. He couldn't move. The two Death Eaters who had guarded him moved out of range of the spell. "Any last words?"

"Not to you," Draco said and the two men standing to the side lightly sniggered quietly. "But the one that I would like to speak to is not here. She already knows I love her."

Greg gave a disgusted frown and said sarcastically, "I'm sure your slut would find that touching."

"At least my slut can be more trustworthy than yours," Draco hissed, an odd gleam in his eye. Greg pressed his lips together tightly. Greg had married Pansy right when she got out of school. Pansy was nothing less than pretty. She had grown out of her pudgy face and had grown into a slim, seductive woman who got whatever she wished by using her sexuality. There was only one man who could not and would not fall unto seductiveness, and that was Draco. This would probably explain why she kept trying to get him to like her, sitting next to him while wearing short skirts that when she crossed her legs, she gave him a preview at what he could have if he asked. 

Pansy was a girl who went only for those with a high status and a lot of money. Draco had been on the top of her list but he had gone for other girls, ignoring her completely. Some had said he had given in to her one night and he was so good that she kept following him. Either way, Pansy would do anything for Draco's attention. So, when Greg, one of the many men who loved, or thought he loved Pansy asked for her hand in marriage, she had accepted in hope that Draco would get jealous and demand that she break up with him, which she would most likely do. Now that Pansy was married, she was a drunk and had many little "parties" when her husband was away on Death Eater missions. In simple words, neither Greg nor Pansy was a happy person. 

Greg bellowed, "_Crucio!_"

When it was over, Draco was trembling, blood dripping from mouth and nose. He felt so weak but his eyes still stayed strong. A smirk forming on his pale face, he remarked, "Know how to keep your cool, don't you, Greg?"

"Shut up," hissed Greg. He was too angry to do anything. Draco could have sworn he saw smoke coming out from his ears. "I was thinking of giving you a quick death, but even sending you to hell would be doing you a favor!"

Draco watched with amusement as Greg took his index fingers and massaged his temples. Greg shook his arms and then pointed his wand at Draco again. He was amazed at how although Draco was hurt, bleeding and almost on the edge of passing out, his blue eyes were still strong and cold as if he hadn't been affected by anything, like nothing could defeat him. "I admit that I do admire your courage against death, Draco. You should have been in Gryfinndor."

"Life would have been better if I had been," replied Draco. He nodded his head, "Farewell, Greg."

"Farewell, Draco." Greg wondered what Draco was thinking as he cleared his throat to utter two words. He was dumbfounded at the younger man's fearlessness. Even when he was face to face with Voldermorte, he did not fear him. Yes, Draco should have been put in Gryfinndor. 

He watched with admiration as Draco watched the wand summon up the power to send him to his death, just like the wand had done hundreds of times before. He wondered what he himself would have done if he were in Draco's position. A Death Eater doesn't usually think of such things, but Greg was different and he knew Draco more than the other's he had killed. He watched as the green light exploded from the tip of his wand and flew forward into the younger man's chest. And yet Draco's face did not change even as he fell face down into the wet grass.

__

You would have made an excellent Dark Lord, Draco, thought Greg. Turning to the other Death Eaters, he ordered in a gruff voice, "Come Goyle, Crabbe. The Ministry would have tracked the curse by now."

Goyle and Crabbe gave a last quick glance at their childhood comrade before following Greg. With that, three loud cracks were heard near the body of Draco Malfoy. The breeze blew quietly, the branches of the trees swayed sorrowfully. Another soul had been lost that day.

..*..

Later that day, a woman who walked around with a smile on her face, set out two mugs on the counter. She couldn't wait to see him. She had been looking forward to this all day. Humming to herself, she set the kettle on the stove and proceeded to heat up the water. She sat two bags of powdered hot chocolate next to the mugs before going to the living room to start a fire.

As she got it going to a healthy glow, she heard the doorbell ring. Thinking it was him, she ran to the door and threw open the door with a smile on her face which soon disappeared. Another man stood in the doorway, a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked concerned. Harry spoke the words quietly, but they destroyed her world, shattering it to a million pieces. The woman covered her mouth in disbelief, tears flooding her eyes. As her legs gave out from underneath her, Harry caught her. 

The woman was wrapped in the man's comforting arms and she didn't protest. She felt as if she just lost a part of herself, so much pain and emptiness consuming her soul. Burying her face in Harry's chest, she let out muffled screams in agonizing sorrow, releasing the pain inside of her. 

Sobbing uncontrollably, she listened painfully as Harry explained through a tight voice what had happened, tears of his own rolling down his face. Together, the two friends held onto each other, one comforting both of them. The stars had come out and Hermione invited Harry in for a drink. She quietly looked at the green mug Draco used to drink out of whenever he came over. She saw little images of her Draco smiling, laughing, teasing and just relaxing peacefully with her. She remembered his kisses and words, all those memories from a simple green mug. He had always liked that green mug, always choosing that one from the others. It wouldn't be right to let someone else drink of it without his permission. Tears falling anew, she replaced Draco's mug with a different one and grievously closed the cabinet door.

..*..

****

A/N: I would like to thank ALL of you who reviewed! Thank you so much, I really was touched by it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 

Now in case your wondering why Draco didn't use the spell that Harry came up with, it'll be explained in the next and hopefully last chapter. That's right, there's another chapter coming up, which means you should stay posted!

Now if you reviewed last time, you know what to do. Go and review! I would really, really, really like you to review and when I mean I would really, really, REALLY like for you to review, I mean I REALLY WANT YOU TO REVIEW…please? *puppy dog eyes*

Hey, maybe that accio review will work again!

1…2…3…_accio review_! *nothing happens…again*

*sighs and shrugs* oh well, it was worth trying, right? I guess I'll just have to settle with wishing again. I wish, I wish, I wish…_


	3. Saved in the Rain

Disclaimer: Like before and the time before that. I do not own Harry Potter. 

****

Forever Yours

~ Pensive Puddles

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" the pastor droned on as the coffin was lowered into the black earth. The sky was a depressing and sad gray, reflecting the mood that was hanging in the cemetery air. The wind was blowing lightly, stirring up the dead leaves and blowing at the cloaks of the people gathered at the grave sight. 

She had been so emotionless that whole day. Not one tear had spilled from her amber eyes. Not one single tear. Harry on the other hand, had not been ashamed and had let the tears course down his face, but he refused to add sound effects. He'd save that for later, when he finally realized that Draco would never come back. Harry…brave, humble Harry. Ron had even let his own eyes mist over. She knew that Ron didn't care for Draco a whole lot, but a death was a death. He knew that no one, even Draco, deserve to have his life ripped out of his own hands. 

Even as the coffin hit the bottom of the pit, she could hear sniffles, sobs and strangled noises being made throughout the small group of people who had come to pay respects to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione reluctantly threw in her handful of dirt, and watched as a few more handfuls of dirt and flowers were thrown onto the mahogany coffin. She felt so dead, as if she was the one in the coffin and she secretly wished she was. She probably would have been happier. It seemed unbelievable that this was happening. It didn't seem real. But the winds cruel bite constantly proved her wrong. 

She felt Harry's hand interlock with hers, and he squeezed her hand comforting. He was the only one who knew that she was breaking inside. She had refused to pass Draco's coffin at the service. She didn't know if she would have been able to take it, looking down at her love's dead face. She could still close her eyes and be able to picture his pale, dead complexion as he laid on the metal table at the morgue. She shuddered at the memory. How dreary of a place it was! How could anyone work there?

She heard the crunching of leaves as people walked away from the graveyard, murmuring a couple words of good bye. She didn't move. She couldn't move. 

"He was a good guy. I wish I could have come to know that sooner, become friends with him. Wherever he is, I hope he doesn't always remember me as the jerk that I was when he was alive," whispered Ron. He wasn't really talking to Harry or Hermione, but more to himself. Hermione grabbed his hand to give it a little squeeze and then released it. He looked at him with his sad blue eyes. "Hermione, if you ever need to talk…you're always welcomed at the Barrow. I'm here for you."

__

But he's_ not, not anymore,_ she couldn't help but silently add to herself. She felt the familiar pang in her heart. That had happened a lot. Anything that reminded her of him had sent her that painful feeling, hitting whatever was left inside of her that could feel. How she wished it would leave. She felt as if nothing was there, no heart, no soul. It had died that moment she found out of his death. She nodded dumbly at Ron's offer.

She heard his footsteps die off and then the loud snap of him Apparating. There were only a few other people besides Harry and her who were standing next to Draco's grave. 

Hermione watched with blank eyes as the diggers piled shovel full after shovel full of dirt over the coffin. The black mounds were smothering the white roses that had been thrown in there. It wasn't until the last part of the coffin had disappeared under the dirt when she finally snapped. The sudden realization that this was it. He was gone, **forever**.

__

I never said good bye…she thought to herself. It hit her with such force that she gasped. "No…" the first tear that day finally sliding down her face as she whispered. She started to shake her head frantically.

"No!" she screamed. She lunged forward, almost hurling herself into the pit. She would have done it. Merlin knows she would have done it, but something had held her back. "Let me go!" she howled.

"Hermione, no! You can't!" Harry told her in a firm voice, despite the tears that were streaming down his own face.

"Let me go, Harry! I need to tell him! He was everything. He can't go! I didn't tell him!" she gasped, choking on her sobs and making high, gasps as she sucked in hard for air. "I didn't say good bye!"

The remaining people looked at the poor girl. What a pathetic sight she made. She was kicking and punching, trying to free the arms that were trying to save her, and drag herself to the coffin that was buried half way into the earth. The sound of her cries were like the sound of the last agonizing cry of a wounded animal, right before it died. And those who had observed her during the funeral and burial, they knew that she had died. To the ladies who were watching, it was obvious that her heart was buried with the man in the ground. They watched sadly, unable to help. This was something between Harry and Hermione.

"You have to let him go," Harry said between the breaks of her sobs.

"I…I…c-can't!" she whimpered, her energy draining away quickly. She felt as if everything inside of her was sucked out of her body. She gave up and fell back into her friend's warm arms. Oh! how she welcomed his loving arms. Of course, it wasn't the arms she wanted the most, but they were perfectly fine. Somehow, although very little, it eased the empty pain. "I…" she whispered into his chest, "I didn't tell him I loved him."

"He knows. He knows, Hermione." 

"H-how? I d-didn't tell h-him! I didn't tell him!" she repeated painfully, breaking out into a new fit of uncontrollable sobs.

"Sometimes words don't have to be spoken. Sometimes people just know," he whispered into her hair. Hermione sat cuddled in his arms, still shaking from her cries. The tears fell so hot, so fast. All the tears she had somehow held back all that day, were finally taking their toll, ruining the little make up she had on. 

The two best friends sat on the ground, holding onto each other. Everyone else had left. Hermione looked up at Harry. Suddenly, she realized that Draco's death had affected Harry as much as her. Not that Harry was gay, she knew that he was courting a girl at the Ministry, but there was a friendship between the two men that neither she nor Ron would ever understand. Harry and Draco were almost the same, but completely different. There was a bond that instantly connected between them, an understanding, almost as though they knew exactly what the other was thinking. 

Harry held onto Hermione, unconsciously rocking them back and forth, soothing both of them. She felt so foolish. Never once had she thought of Harry's feelings during this painful ordeal. He was so pale, and the bags under his eyes clearly meant he had had many sleepless nights. And his eyes, they looked so haunted and sorrowful. The bright cheeriness that usually filled those deep forest eyes was gone, replaced by a flat look. Both eyes were red. He had done a lot of crying lately. 

Hermione's heart went out to Harry and before she could stop herself, she croaked just above a whisper, "Oh Harry!"

It seemed to break him in his vulnerable spot for he broke down into tears again. She quickly hugged him, pressing his head to her chest and petting his hair, soothing him with meaningless words and let him weep, cradling his head to her chest. He held onto her, his fingers grabbing handfuls of her shirt and he pressed against her. It seemed as if Harry had stepped back to the days were he was a younger man, a boy who could cry and be comforted. It was the only thing he needed, that and his friend, but the latter would never return. 

When his outburst had ended leaving a very tired looking, puffy eyed Harry, they slowly stood up, looking at the mound of dirt covered in flowers. Hermione leaned into Harry's tall frame, resting her head on his chest. She could smell his cologne and couldn't help but compare it to Draco's. This brought another wave of tears but she blinked them rapidly back. She had had enough crying. She felt so weak, so useless.

"Thank you," she whispered. She had abruptly realized what might have happened if she had dove into the pit. Harry had rescued her again. He always was the hero. A sad hero, but nevertheless, a hero.

They stood like that for a couple more moments, taking in nothing, but dwelling on memories of the past, breathing in each other's presence. Harry's cell phone went off at his side, the ring playing the notes of the song "Weasley is our King." The song had grown on him, and he always got a kick at seeing Ron's face slightly reddening whenever he heard it. 

Harry flipped open the cell phone and held it to his ear. A lot of muffled talking was heard from the phone and yes's, sure's, right's, were made on Harry's side of the phone, and then he closed it, cutting the connection. He turned towards her, looking down into her eyes. "Hermione, there's this emergency at the Ministry and--"

She waved her hand, silencing him. She gave him a hug, murmuring into his sweater, "I know, Harry. You're a busy man."

"Thanks for understanding, 'Mione," he thanked, kissing her hair. His grateful, comforting smile was still on his face as he took out his wand and Apparated himself from the cemetery grounds.

The little smile on her face silently faded, leaving a sad frown. She was thinking of him again. How he had plagued her mind ever since Harry had murmured, "Draco's dead."

Two simple words that had changed everything, it was so preposterous and yet believable. And it had happened to her. She had been looking so forward to seeing him that night, dying to ask him if what the ring meant what she thought it meant. The ring…

Hermione grabbed for her neck, pulling the ring on a chain out from under her shirt. She kept it by her heart now. She held the ring, reading the inscription over and over again. How many times had she done this the day he had left? How many times after she found out of his death? She'd think that the words were worn away by the number of times her eyes had gazed over it. She rubbed it unconsciously between her fingers, a habit she had picked up over the last couple days. She somehow felt that by touching the ring, she was connecting herself to Draco in some bazaar way. She snorted at her own logic. How stupid…

And yet it comforted her. She didn't know why something so stupid would, but it worked. She gently closed her eyes, reawakening her mind's memories to every single picture that involved Draco.

She could see him so clearly. His blond hair blowing crazily in the wind as both he and Harry were diving for the snitch and the one time where he caught it, beating the Boy-who-lived. Both boys' faces were set in determined grimaces, knowing that in one single second, one boy would be humiliated, another glorified. And Draco had noticed the bludger before Harry did, trying to give him a cry of warning but he was too slow. Harry had been knocked off his broom and Draco's fingers had come in contact with the golden snitch. They automatically closed over it and the crowd went wild. Hermione had run down to the field when Harry had fallen off his broom, being caught by a soft mist from Dumbledore's wand. Before she returned to looking Harry over, she took a glance at Draco who was hoisted up in the air by his teammates. And she could see the worry on his face and regret that he was being taken away from a person he could have helped. If people had taken the time to look at the Draco she knew, they would find a man who was both kind and considerate.

She remembered his laughing eyes after he had played a joke on someone, or had made a cunning remark that had ended up with the class laughing. He really was funny when he got into the mood. At first, it had taken a couple moments to get over the shock of Draco making a joke that wasn't a put down, and then the class would laugh uproariously. How his blue eyes captivated her so deeply, occasionally loosing her concentration on everything except on the mysterious blue orbs.

And his classic smirk. He was known in Hogwarts history for his smirk. Students had tired to impersonate it, but had never come close. It was the way his mouth worked, turning up more on one side, and then the matching glint in his eyes, it looked so good on him. Somehow, that smirk that she had once despised had grown to be one of the things that had made her feel warm and tingly inside, especially if she knew that he wasn't making fun of her. But even when he did, making her angry, she knew she couldn't stay that way for long. He could be serious, look her straight in the eye with clear blue eyes. No glints, no twinkles, just plain eyes that told her that he wasn't kidding.

She even could recall how he walked. He always walked with his head held high, a trait his father had forced him to take on. And although he tried to get rid of it, he never did loose that sureness in his stride. He never did falter in his gaze, always was the champion whenever he had staring matches, especially with Hermione at meal times. The only time he would lower his eyes would be if he felt ashamed. And he had to be really ashamed to do it too. 

As she stood, thinking of old pastimes, large droplets of water were falling from the heavy clouds, as if the dark gray piles were releasing their pain. She didn't pay any heed to it. Rain. He had saved her once from the rain. How that day stood so clearly in her mind. She could remember how the common room had smelled that day of dirty clothes and sweat. She could taste it in her mouth.

She had stormed out of the castle, absolutely infuriated with Ron because of something he said to her. The stupid arguments they had gotten into when they were younger. They were so immature. But this time, he had really ticked her off that the library couldn't cool her down, which was saying something. Without really thinking, she turned to the left and started to walk. She walked along the Forbidden Forest, occasionally walking into it for awhile before walking back out. She faintly felt raindrops and she thought,_ Good/ I hope I freeze to death, catch a cold leaving me on the brink of death/ Oh! how Ron would feel guilty. Stupid jerk. All of them, every single male out there on this planet is a jerk. Inconsiderate… I hope I do die. Maybe that'll teach him a lesson, let him live in regret for the rest of his life. Serves him right…_

She was so deep into her thoughts--which was more of how to hurt Ron in a way in which he would regret for the rest of his life--that she didn't notice another presence near her. She remembered something pulling at her and she had ripped it away, thinking it was branch or something. It pulled again, harder this time, almost sending her crashing backwards onto her bottom but she retained her balance. 

A thestral was pulling it towards her (she had seen death in her sixth year), it's gleaming white eyes staring unseeingly at her. Its leathery black wings twittered slightly and it took a couple more trembling steps to her. It was clearly old by the sagging of the skin against its bones and the white silver hairs that streaked down its back and sides. It made a whimper that resembled a shrill, painful howl that made her flinch. What did it want? Weren't these things only attracted to blood? She gasped in realization.

It had come early. She cursed under her breath. Why oh why did it have to kick up again, now? And usually it wasn't that much, but she could faintly remember that the previous month had been light, so by calculation of her body…

She groaned, and ripped her robe out of its mouth. These things weren't vicious…right? She gulped nervously as the thestral seemed to scowl at her; it's white eyes narrowing. It stepped towards her again. "Don't panic, don't panic," Hermione chanted to herself. 

But this thestral must have been really hungry because it made quicker--for its age anyway--attempts to grab her. It was seriously considering in eating her. "OK, **now** is the time to panic," she whispered. 

Hermione noticed that the thing had made her back step into the Forbidden Forest. "I am seriously screwed," she told herself, trying to swallow her heart that was beating in her throat. She had to think. She had to clear her mind. What would Dumbledore do? What would Harry do?

__

Hermione, dear, Dumbledore and Harry are guys. They don't get periods! She snapped at herself. _You're on your own, sweetie._

Hermione tried to get past the thing, running as quickly as she could past the horse-like creature but it seemed to be quicker than she realized, cutting her off and snapping it's teeth in warning at her. Plus, the motivation for food seemed to be giving him energy. It reared up on its hind legs and she knew what was next. She let out a blood-chilling scream as the creature jumped on her. It bit with its sharp teeth at her clothes, ripping her robes and cutting into her delicate skin. She screamed again, screaming for help.

She was loosing hope. The rain was pouring into her eyes. _So this is how I'll die_, she thought to herself between her screams, _they'll just find a mangled corpse and a robe. _She started to cry at the idea. Her mind brought up the words she had spoken to herself earlier. _I wonder if he would miss me? If he was sorry. I guess I'll never know. Oh! I'm so sorry, Ron! Harry…always stuck in the middle of our row. I'm sorry, Harry. I love you both…never forget that…_

She let out a agonizing, painful howl that disturbed the birds in the trees as the thestral bit lightly into her shoulder, releasing blood and arousing it. She heard what sounded like a battle cry and then the thestral backed off. Something had jumped on it, kicking and punching like a demon possessed creature. She propped herself up on her elbows. She had grown weak from fighting the thestral, purple and red bruises already appearing on her skin that was trickling with blood. Looking through the haze of the falling rain, she saw a flash of blond hair and a black robe.

"Draco?" she whispered in a question. She fell back, breathing heavily. Her shoulder was throbbing insanely, like a drum repeatedly being hit. She didn't know how long she laid there, but it felt like an eternity. The pain was slowing down time, almost. "Help me. Save me."

"Hermione?" Draco called out urgently. She slid her gaze over to him, looking through half closed eyes as he demanded, "What happened?"

"Thestrals…smelled blood…lured me in here…attacked…tried to fight …so…tried…help me Draco…"she whispered. She watched tiredly as he took off his robes, revealing a white muscle shirt and jeans. The rain was wetting the shirt, making it stick to his body and even though she was exhausted from her fight and the blood lose, she still blushed as she look intently at his muscles. He really did have a nice body under those robes. 

He covered her in his robe and scooped her into his arms and started to run back to the castle. "Hermione, stay with me," he begged as he ran.

How many times had she thought of what would have happened if he hadn't shown up? Her courageous knight, fearless dragon. As she was lowered into a bed in the hospital wing, she silently whispered to him, "Thank you, Draco. I owe you my life."

"Shh," he hushed. "Save your energy."

"The boy's right, young lady," Madam Pomfrey as she hurriedly cleaned and bandaged Hermione's wound. Even though the old nurse tried to get Draco to leave, he refused, rubbing her hand comfortingly until she fell asleep and even when she woke up he was there, telling what happened to Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. She remembered that she had feigned sleep, encouraging him to keep hold her hand. He had such a warm touch. That was when he was accepted into their little group, Hermione easier than the boys did. He saved her in the rain, one of her fearless heroes.

~*~

Hermione wondered if she stayed in the rain long enough this time, if he would come and save her again. But she was soaked to the bone and no one had come. Hot tears started to mix with the rain dripping down her face.

So this is what if felt like. Is this what Harry felt when Sirius fell behind the Veil? She hadn't actually witnessed it, but the after effects were enough for her. Did Harry feel so helpless, so alone and empty inside? She only could wonder.

"Why'd you go, Draco? Why didn't you stay?" she screamed at the mound. She was so angry. It was strange how someone who was once sad could feel such anger in a second. It was like a completely different person had taken the girl's place. Her curly hair was matted to her head, her clothes were sticking tightly to her body, her makeup smeared completely. She was disoriented, so unlike the Hermione who made sure everything was neat and tidy. How different she had become in the span time of a couple moments. 

She roughly grabbed for the ring around her neck. Her breaths came into sharp gasps, trying to control the tipsy emotions inside of her. She glared at the ring. She yanked it off her neck and she threw it at grave. She glared at it, and after a few moments of wondering what she had just done, she dove towards the flowers in which the ring had been buried. She dug frantically. She had to find it! It was the last thing she had of him, the last thing…Why the hell had she thrown it?!

She sobbed and gave a yelp of relief at seeing the silver band glisten in the rain. She grabbed at it, scooping it into her hand and holding it to her chest. She kneeled over, her forehead touching the grass and her legs tucked under her. She held the ring with trembling fingers. _I'm so sorry, Draco. Never again, never again_, she chanted to herself. He ragged breaths came up in small clouds as the rain continued to pour. It was cold outside, and yet her mind and body were oblivious to it. Only recognizing the pain inside.

It was inconceivable that a few days ago she had been waiting at her house, waiting for him to ring her doorbell. Her heart had been so light and carefree, never knowing the dangerous words that would destroy her. She had wanted to kiss him breathless when he opened that door, and it was a good thing she had noticed Harry before she did that. Think of the horror, kissing Harry. If Hermione had been in a calm state when she was thinking this, she probably would have blushed, but she was too angry. How could he leave her like this? Why didn't he use that stupid spell Harry had come up with in seventh year?

Yes, she knew of the spell. Harry and shown here and it was quite odd to see two Harry's doing different things at the same time--although she did clean the house three times quicker with the two Harry's help. She hadn't even thought of the spell until Harry brought it up. They were sitting in her small kitchen, drinking tea quietly, and silently comforting each other without words. He had slammed his cup down, startling Hermione who almost dropped her teacup in her lap. He cursed loudly, making Hermione's eyes widen in surprise at his language but she quickly let it go as she noticed him gripping his hand. Grabbing his hand, she led him quickly to the sink where she stuck his hand under the cool running water. He sighed, tears prickling at his eyes.

She wondered if he was crying at the pain in his hand (the tea had been hotter than usual) or if it was something else and she was leaning more to the latter. She didn't even have to say it; he could read it from her movements.

"I don't understand," he muttered, looking blankly at the running water that changed its shape constantly.

"What?" she asked, removing his hand to wipe it with a dish towel, then took her wand, murmuring healing spells to take away the damage. Not all accidents to the human body can immediately be cured by magic. She watched as the red, slightly burned skin fad away, leaving his natural skin color. He nodded his thanks and then looked at her.

"Why he didn't use the spell," he told her. He had taught it to Draco. It was a difficult spell, but nothing too hard for Draco to handle. If it wasn't for his looks, or his name that people knew of, it was his knowledge and understanding in magic. She blinked. Why hadn't he used it? He would have still been here then, unless…

"Maybe he's still out there. He just doesn't want to be seen." Harry told himself. 

"Harry…"she said in a don't-get-carried-away tone.

"I know. I know. I was just hoping, always hoping…"he fell into silence and she felt a wave of pity wash over her. She embraced him in a sisterly way, rubbing his back soothingly. 

"I think," she began, choosing her words carefully," I think Draco didn't want to live with only half of his mind, soul or life intact. And we never had gone farther in that spell. What if something worse had happened if part of you was killed? What if he was still alive but he couldn't be seen? Like an invisible ghost or something? Draco wouldn't have wanted that. He told me once he never was afraid of dying, it was just leaving everyone behind that he was afraid of. He'd rather be all there, then to be part there."

"But…" Harry sighed. He knew he had lost the argument, or whatever they were having. Draco was always a proud fellow, despite how near the beginning of the battle he was scared of death. However, being scared of death did not always weaken your pride. If it was one thing Harry most admired and despised of Draco at the same time, it was his pride. It was wonderful that he wouldn't let anyone get above him or take advantage of him, but it did make him choose foolish choices, sometimes. "You're right, as always."

She didn't say anything. There was no need.

~*~

Hermione sighed at the memory. If Draco had had to choose between death, and living with half of himself, he would probably chose death. That was just the person he was. The anger inside of her was ebbing away, leaving her empty and sorrowful again. Sometimes she wished she felt nothing, not to be human. She closed her eyes sadly. Her Dragon Knight wasn't coming to save her. And it ate at her. She needed to do something, clear her mind…

A walk. That always helped. He would sometimes join her, being there just in case she wanted to talk about what was on her mind. _Don't think of him!_ she hissed at herself. She turned and started to walk, but she kept talking glances over her shoulder, somehow hoping that he'd be there, waiting there in the rain, that maybe he had just been waiting for the right time to reveal himself of the spell. When she had exited out of the cemetery's black iron gates, she took one last look, seeing through the hills she had crossed and saw a grave, nothing more, nothing less. 

She folded her arms across her chest and started to walk blindly. She was still crying, but very rarely. Once in awhile her nose would drip and she would have to sniff. The rain wasn't helping much either. She would let the tears occasionally fall from her eyes, sliding down her face and mixing with the rain. No one could tell. 

As she walked, her mind kept traveling back to Draco. How was she going to get through this? She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the rain came down harder and quicker. Hermione was completely unheeding of it. So preoccupied in her thought was she that she wasn't pulled out of her thoughts until she opened her eyes to finding herself lying on the sidewalk, a man siting in front of her as if he had been knocked down.

__

You idiot! You just had to go and knock someone down in the rain. Unlike you, who's absolutely freezing in the rain and drenched, you just **had**_ to get someone else soaked!_ She cursed herself. 

"I'm so sorry--" she looked at the man she had knocked to the ground. She gasped, her eyes widening. It couldn't be. It was impossible! There were two blue eyes looking down at her, shinning with concern and warmth. She swallowed, her voice seemed to have disappeared but she was able to gasp out, "Draco?"

"Sorry, pretty miss. Bloody hell! You're completely soaked! Here, get under my umbrella, although the amount of good it'll do you know is very slim," he told her in a cheery, concerned voice while pulling her to her feet.

Hermione looked at the man. He wasn't Draco. She was stupid, delusional and she was a through-and-through moron. She should have known by the dark blue ring that circled his iris. Draco never had dark blue circles in his eyes, only flecks. But this man looked so much like him! He had blond hair that was chopped short, and gelled back in a professor kind of way. He had a face structure that resembled Draco's, almost the same height…she wondered if he had the same smirk…

A faint blush rose to her cheeks, making them feel like fire against the coldness of her skin. She gently shook her head. "Thank you for your kindness, sir--"

"Please don't call me that. I feel so old!" he smirked. She smiled. He didn't have his smirk and it was both a comforting and sad thought. Here she believed she had found Draco, or someone like him, but she'd rather have the true Draco, not a replica.. Draco was gone. No one could replace him; she should have realized that. It was stupid really. 

"Then what should I call you by?" she asked.

"Call me whatever you wish, but if you'd really like to get my attention, you can call me Tyler Snape." Tyler replied, looking down at her.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't possibly be related to Grouchy, old Professor Snape, right? A wizard? "Snape? Are you related to Serverus Snape?" 

"The one and only. I'm a cousin of his."

"Wow. Small world. He was my Potions Professor when I was attending Hogwarts," she informed him. 

"Mine too."

"You attended Hogwarts?"

"Partially for first year. Severus taught me during the summer when Father had me transferred to Drumstrang," her grimaced as if recalling unpleasant memories. "I always wished I had gone to Hogwarts. I heard it was magical. I once went there too, while I was in Drumstrang, for the Triwizard Tournaments. I didn't enter. I was underage, but I tagged along anyway. It really was magical. We talked about that castle the whole trip back and even into the next year. So many of us longed to go back there…"

"It is a magical place…" she agreed. Hermione, much to her dismay, sneezed at the moment, catching Tyler's attention.

"Oh hells bells! I completely forgot! Here we are, standing in the rain--although it would make a very romantic moment--talking like old chums and your catching your death! Here, come get a cup of coffee with me. We'll get you warmed up in no time with a couple spells and a drink," he invited, almost urged. She smiled at how fast he talked.

"I really must be going. I'm sorry for making you fall in the rain. You must be just as wet as I am." It wasn't as if she didn't mind the offer. Tyler wasn't a bad looking guy; he was pretty decent, almost falling under the category of hot. It was just that the pain of Draco's death was still raw inside of her that she didn't think she was ready, to have a man who looked so much like Draco, reminding her of him.

"Please. I insist. I feel really bad considering I bumped you off your feet." Tyler's eyes were begging her, and she felt weak at the knees. "Please, Miss--what was your name?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger," she said, watching with amusement as Tyler's eyes widened.

"Hermione? THE Hermione Granger? Well now I _really_ feel like scum. I just plowed the beautiful, right hand woman of Harry Potter," he moaned, his face suddenly paling in alarm, and he hid behind her, looking over her small shoulders. She couldn't resist smiling; he looked ridiculous! 

"Tyler! What on earth?" she asked bewildered. 

"Shhh!" he hissed. "I think I can see your two chums walking down the streets. They look pissed. Oh good Merlin! I'm in for it now!" 

She was tempted to look back, wondering if her two friends really were behind her, but noticing the bright twinkle in his blue eyes, she gave him a playful shove, laughing, "You're such an over actor."

"Thank you. Now, will you let me make up for treating you so badly and let me buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked again for the fourth or fifth time.

"But I bumped into you. It was my fault."

"Hermione, please, let me have the honor of escorting you? Please?"

She bit her lip, still contemplating. She lowered her eyes. It didn't feel right.

"We can talk about Draco if you want," he said in a low voice. She looked up at him with startled eyes. How did he know Draco? He seemed to read her thoughts, for he added, "You said his name when you first bumped into me. And many times in the past, we've always been mixed up because we looked so much alike--don't ask me how it worked out because Draco's my second cousin. We grew up together before we split up for school. Besides, he always came to Uncle Snape's Manor (even though Serverus is my cousin, I call him Uncle because he's so much older than we were) and we'd play together.."

"How'd you know--Draco--that I wanted to talk about him?" 

"Draco once told me through letters about you. He liked you, you know. He didn't have to write it down; I could just tell. And I knew you liked him. I can see it in your eyes. You would not hold such pain if you considered him more than a friend. And I saw you at the funeral. I was in the back, and I left before they lowered him into the ground, but I saw you…and your pain." 

"Tyler…you are one of the most interesting people I've ever met in my life." Hermione blurted. Tyler seemed to have a sixth sense about these kind of things. And even through a couple letters, and a look at her eyes, he was able to tell so much about her. She was, needless to say, astonished. 

"Alright then, Tyler. I guess one cup of coffee wouldn't hurt," she smiled as the smirk formed on his face. Surprisingly, it comforted her slightly. She needed to talk to someone. 

Tyler held out his arm in a gentlemanly way, bowing slightly. It was something that Draco would do. Again, she was surprised how his name didn't bring tears to her eyes. Taking it, she looked at Tyler. The umbrella was held above their heads, but both of them were more than wet. And so they walked down the street, talking at each other like old friends. 

Her hero had saved her in the rain. Although not in the same form or person, but he had reached out to her. She smiled to herself. Hermione knew that would be just the thing Draco would do for her. He had saved her, like the fearless knight, courageous dragon he was. Why he wasn't in Gryfinndor, Hermione would never understand, but if he hadn't, nothing would have turned out the way it was. They might not have fallen madly in love, share the strong, unique bond they shared, and maybe even the war would have gone differently. As it was, Hermione silently look over her shoulder at the path that she had taken from the cemetery and mouthed, "Good bye, love." 

She turned to look at Tyler, letting her fingers release the ring she had been unconsciously stroking tenderly.

__

The End 

****

~*~

A/N: Practice drill! Go, press the button and write about what you thought of this fic! Go, go, go!!! *lowers drill sergeant whistler*

Well there you have it folks! My little Draco and Hermione fic, coming to an end. Yes, that's right people, it is finished! *sniff* 

First of all, I was wondering if you guys liked Tyler Snape? I wanted him to be related to Draco so he could resemble Draco a lot. If I were to continue this story *cough* sequel *cough*, then I guess I could describe him better and why Hermione is slightly confused and everything. Did I make her sound confused? Second, Tyler is mine. As far as I know, there isn't a Tyler Snape. 

I hope this clears it up for you guys. I hope I didn't stray too out of character. *Grins sheepishly* Any questions, you can just add in your review (**MAJOR** HINT HERE) and leave your email address so I can reply to you. But then again, you could just **review** **even if you don't have questions**.

Thank you for all your reviews from the previous two chapters! And thank you especially for the ones who came back and reviewed for my story. 

Now…after you've finished with this, go and review! Please? *BIG puppy eyes*

Here I go chanting! I wish…I wish…I wish…I wish…_ 

*sniff* This'll be the last time I'll be doing this little routine thing for this story. It's sorta sad to think about it. Man, I should start on a long chapter story…what do you think? ^_~


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